


That's what happened to you

by freefall_through_fandom



Series: Diets and Daughters [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bullying, Flashbacks, Greg is a good dad, Greg's good at his job, Insecurity, M/M, Some angst, Young Mycroft, chubby!mycroft, insecure!Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8286790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freefall_through_fandom/pseuds/freefall_through_fandom
Summary: A call from Greg leads to Mycroft picking Natalie up from school early and a not so pleasant flashback into Mycroft's past. Bonus chapter for Absolutely Perfect.





	

**Author's Note:**

> And here we go! As promised a bonus chapter for Absolutely perfect! Thank you all so much for reading and leaving a Kudos on my other work, it really does mean a lot to me. A warning now that there's a fairly big chunk of bullying in this fic, so if you don't want to read it, skip the part in italics. Also, Greg's not in this one much, it's more to do with Mycroft and Natalie, so sorry if anyone's disappointed there! As usual leave a comment if you have anything at all you want to say - even if it's a spelling mistake - and I hope you enjoy reading!

 “Listen Myc, I know you’re really busy, and that I’m asking the British government to stop what he’s doing…but Natalie’s school called, she needs picking up and if I drop what I’m doing we’re going to lose this guy, and if we lose this guy we’re going to have a killer on the loose that’ll take weeks, if not months to track again and that’s goin…”

 

“Gregory. Stop talking.” Mycroft said, his voice was a long way off from the tone that he usually commanded to give orders, but he was fairly certain that no stronger tone of voice would be necessary to stop Greg from rambling like that. He was right, of course, his partner fell silent on the other end of the line, save for the bustle of London traffic and the grumbling baritone of his brother’s voice in the background there was quiet. He knew the case the Yard were currently following. Mycroft made it his business to know about any of the cases Sherlock or Greg were working on, and if both of them were working on the same task then it was practically guaranteed that Mycroft had cameras turned to make sure they weren’t in any imminent danger…or at least to warn him if they were. Neither of them were particularly great at keeping out of trouble. Greg was right that it might take weeks to track the man again, so he could understand the urgency in finding someone to collect Natalie. “Good, thank you. Now, is Natalie okay? Why does she need picking up?”

 

While it was possible to keep an eye on two grown men gallivanting about London chasing the occupants of London’s dark underbelly, installing CCTV cameras into primary school classrooms wouldn’t be nearly as acceptable, meaning that Mycroft had to trust in the competency of the school staff to look after Natalie. It wasn’t surprising that he didn’t hold much hope for that. Greg seemed to be happy with the arrangement, as did his ex-wife Abigail, so Mycroft didn’t meddle, if they believed she was in good hands there it wasn’t his place to question it. She wasn’t his daughter, after all. “She’s alright, I wasn’t on the phone to the school long, but they said that she needs picking up for bad behaviour…I tried talking to Abi, but she’s gone to Brighton for some reason, that’s why I’m looking after Natalie tonight.” Greg explained.

 

Mycroft relaxed slightly into the plush leather of his armchair, the tense muscles in his shoulders slackening, rigid back curving slightly as he allowed himself to get a little more comfortable in the chair. As usual when taking personal calls at work he was multi-tasking, holding the phone in his right hand and writing detailed notes to pass to Anthea with instructions on the delivery of an incredibly important pendrive to an airstrip. Nothing she hadn’t done before, but due to the nature of the information on the pendrive Mycroft changed the details of the delivery to prevent it from being predictable and leaving it open to assailants. “Good, I’m glad to hear she’s not hurt…luckily my schedule for this afternoon consists largely of paperwork, I’m sure I’ll be able to pick her up and bring her to Mrs. Hudson to watch over until one of us finishes work.” He said, knowing full well that Mrs. Hudson would be more than happy to care for the little girl as she’d offered to on multiple occasions. Actually she’d made the offer every time that she’d spent any time at all with her.

 

There was a sigh of relief from across the phone, and Mycroft could clearly picture the way Greg would have deflated with relief, eyes closing for a second, titling his head back slightly in the way he always did when he’d found the solution to whichever problem had been plaguing him. “Oh thank god. Thanks Myc, I knew it was a shot in the dark but I’m glad I asked, you know where the school is right?” he asked, Mycroft simply hummed in the affirmative, busy reading over the casefile of the criminal that Greg was trying to bring into custody to see when he should be due home. “Right, course you do, brilliant. Just tell the reception who you are, I’ll let the school know you’re the one coming to get her.”

 

“Thank you Gregory, I’ll be leaving the office to collect her shortly…Would you remind Sherlock not to aggravate the assailant, and I urge you to keep in mind that he _will_ be armed, this man may not be intelligent but he does have access to an arsenal of weapons, I’d suggest bulletproofs, and make sure that John isn’t the only one on your side with a gun.” He warned him as he shut down his computer, the screen turning black as he carefully tore the sheet of paper from his notepad and stood. “I’ll let you know if there’s an issue. Be careful.” He told Greg, voice softening as he spoke, perhaps not hugely, but enough that Greg would pick up on it and understand that Mycroft wanted him to be careful because he’d worry otherwise, a simple reminder of how much he cared for the other.

 

There was a beat on the other end of the phone that was nothing more than a scoff from his little brother. “I will Myc, don’t worry, I’ll be fine and Sherlock’s got John. Don’t worry about us. I’ll talk to you later alright?” Greg responded. “Love you.”

 

Mycroft smiled a little, collecting the pendrive from the top drawer of his desk. “Understood, I’ll do my best.” He promised. “Love you too.” And then without waiting around for the silence that usually accompanied the closing of phone calls, Mycroft ended the call. It had taken years of patiently waiting before he’d been able to admit that he loved Greg despite it being true for years before hand. Greg had had to wait three years after admitting he loved Mycroft to hear it back, but it had been worth the wait. Admitting that he cared was incredibly difficult for Mycroft, and it required years of patience and quiet understanding for it to occur, but he’d managed, and to that day he didn’t regret it in the slightest.

 

He ensured that the drawers in his ornate wooden desk were locked before he exited his office, leaving the shining wood and the black leather behind for the much more modern office space that Anthea had insisted upon when the office was redecorated. It suited her. As expected she was sat at her desk, serious expression on her face before she glanced up and raised an eyebrow when he stepped out of his office. “Going out Mr.Holmes?” She asked, making a point that he hadn’t said anything about going to the Diogenese and that there were no meetings scheduled for another few hours.

 

“Yes. Something personal has come up and I’m afraid I’m going to have to take some time out to handle it.” He answered her simply, collecting his coat and his umbrella from the rack “Send a car to the front please, and here are your instructions for today. I don’t expect there to be an issue.” He said passing both the instructions and the pendrive over to Anthea, and knowing full well that she’d follow it word for word as always.

 

It didn’t take much time at all to walk from his office to the front of the building, and an even shorter amount of time for the sleek black jaguar to pull up. Mycroft didn’t hesitate in climbing in to the back of the car, the plush leather seats akin to the desk chair in his office, ever one for comfort. Usually the price tag was irrelevant. He gave the driver the address as he got settled. He didn’t waste his time as the car was winding its way through the streets of London, instead taking out his phone and finishing off some e-mails and documents from his phone. In a job like his wasting time simply wasn’t acceptable.

 

Was he worried about Natalie? Yes, of course he was. The fact that she wasn’t his, wasn’t related to him through law or blood didn’t make a difference. She was a sweet girl, and she made her father happy. If something happened to Natalie, even something as small as getting upset at school, Greg suffered for it, and in turn so did Mycroft. It wasn’t only the fact that he cared so much for Greg that had Mycroft worrying about Natalie. He cared about the young girl too, more than he had ever thought he could. She was very much like Sherlock had been at that age, less of a handful, but there was that little spark, the curiosity that he hoped wouldn’t fade as she aged. She was going to grow up to be a fine young woman, and if Mycroft was able he wanted to stand beside Greg and watch it happen. What was happening with her school today wasn’t going to change that, but the way in which the situation was dealt with might. If something had happened to her she would need assurance that Mycroft wasn’t entirely certain that he’d be able to provide. If she’d done something then she needed to be taught and reminded that it wasn’t the right thing to do. Mycroft had more experience with that.

 

It didn’t take long at all before Mycroft was climbing out of the car, umbrella in hand as he straightened his suit. The charcoal grey three-piece was a good fit on him, something that he was pleased about considering that he was out and in public, even if It was just the school. Usually if suits were ill fitting he could hide behind a desk, sending Anthea out to run his errands, but there was no need for that today. Ever since the talk with Greg, since Greg had decided to prove to him that he loved his body regardless of the weight he was carrying Mycroft had relaxed the diet. Not drastically, he still watched what he ate, still told Anthea not to bring biscuits with his tea, and he avoided any meetings over coffee because that was usually accompanied by a scone or a slice of cake. But enough that if he did have a biscuit he didn’t feel terrible for it, that he could eat the dinners Greg made for him without feeling guilt and having to work out the exact number of calories and trying to factor it into the rest of his day, his week, his month…he could enjoy his food, just in moderation.

 

Admittedly the weight wasn’t falling off his frame as quickly if it would have been otherwise, but the number was still decreasing, and the suit sizes were slowly but surely going down too. He was able to wear clothes that he hadn’t even been able to look at when Sherlock had been out and away from surveillance. He was by no means thin, nowhere near the goal he always set himself which was just under the middle weight of the ideal BMI bracket for his height. Mycroft didn’t particularly like the softness, the way his jawline was still blurred, softened, chin doubling when he smiled too widely or ducked his chin down. He didn’t like how wide his thighs were when he sat, or the way his arms looked in profile, how they both tested the confines of the suits when he first shifted into a lower size. His stomach, though, was the worst offender. It was smaller now, but it was still soft, still pillowed out in front of him, an unwanted reminder that he couldn’t see his feet when he looked down, and that when Greg held him from behind his fingers sank in. Love handles still sitting prominently at his sides, prone to loving touches and brushes from Greg that sometimes were a reassurance and sometimes made him ever so aware of the fact that if he just tightened the diet a little they’d be much smaller by now. Made him wonder if being miserable for a few months would be the better option than carrying this around.

 

Greg always seemed to realise when Mycroft was considering that, he was always quick to reassure him, quick to kiss him and sit close to him, hands and lips roaming over his body. Most of the time Greg shifted his attention onto other things, slowed his ever moving brain enough that he didn’t worry about it, that he just enjoyed Greg, the feeling of the other’s skin against his. So the diet wasn’t as efficient as it had been before but he was still making progress, Greg was still firmly by his side and he was much more content in the way he was.

 

The school though, sent a wave of nostalgia over him, both from the times he’d picked Sherlock up from schools similar to this one, and his own time in schools. They always smelled the same. He didn’t hesitate as he made his way to the entrance, opening the door and explaining to the man at the front desk who he was and why he was there. He was lead through the halls without question before eventually being lead into a room that appeared to be a waiting room for the headmistress’ office. There were rows of plastic chairs along the walls, spaces for the children and parents to sit. They looked uncomfortable, but he’d rather them than the fabric and foam covered seats in some waiting rooms that always felt sticky. There, sitting in one of the chairs, little legs not reaching the floor was Natalie. She was dressed in the prescribed uniform, a blue checked dress and a matching blue jumper with the school crest on. Her mousy brown hair falling from the plait that he’d watched Greg struggle for fifteen minutes to put in that morning. Mycroft looked over her carefully, shoulders relaxing slightly when he was that she was fine, no cuts or bruises.

 

On the opposite side of the room there was another child and a woman, and there was a school bag sitting on a chair, so another child was in the office. Mycroft paid them no heed, instead wanting to focus on Natalie. “Mycie!” Her little face lit up when she saw him same hazel eyes like her father’s widening as she jumped down off the chair, running over to him and immediately wrapping her arms around him. Or his legs, considering that was the only place that she could reach. Mycroft smiled slightly despite himself, this was a serious situation, and one that he planned on responding accordingly to, but to get such a warm greeting from the little girl wasn’t something he was used to yet. Yes, the nickname wasn’t something he liked to be referred to as, but she was young, and it was a sign of affection that he wasn’t about to push away.

 

“Natalie.” He greeted, his voice was warm, but it was quite low, quiet so as not to disturb the others, a concept that Natalie hadn’t learned for herself yet as the shout of his name had been fairly loud. He didn’t pick her up, instead leaned down slightly and putting a hand on her back in return. “I hope you don’t mind me picking you up, your dad couldn’t get out of work so he asked me to come for you instead.” He explained as the little girl pulled away, grabbing at Mycroft’s sleeve and tugging him over to the chair she’d been sitting on earlier, climbing up onto it with that easy way children adopted after years of having to climb to get to where they want to be.

 

“S’okay, he’s got to get the bad guys.” She shrugged, sitting back on the seat and once again dangling her legs off without them managing to reach the ground. Mycroft’s smile didn’t fade. As always he was surprised at how serious she was, how easily she could understand that Greg had an important job and how willing she was to forgive him for getting caught up in it sometimes. Especially for a six-year-old she was incredibly understanding, most children would’ve been upset that their father couldn’t get away from work, but not Natalie. She viewed her father as a hero, almost, someone that was getting the bad guys. Mycroft wasn’t trying to tell her otherwise, he thought Greg was a hero in many ways too, the way he remained so caring despite everything that he saw in his work. It was touching. But despite the fact that she was fine with Mycroft being the one to pick her up there were still things that needed to be discussed, so instead of taking a seat next to Natalie, Mycroft crouched in front of her chair so they were at the same level.

 

“He does, your father has a very important job to do.” He said softly. “Now, do you want to explain to me why the school called or would you prefer the headmistress to tell me?” he asked her, watching her. He made sure he was being gently enough, she was only young and she certainly didn’t deserve the look he gave his employees when they inconvenienced him. Natalie sighed, shifting in her seat a little and looked down, not meeting his eyes or looking at him at all as she mumbled something completely unintelligible that he supposed was meant to be an explanation. “Natalie, you need to tell me properly so I know what we have to do.” He told her, a little firmer this time, but he was by no means letting ice into his voice. He wouldn’t do that to a child. The little girl in front of him pouted, shifting and wiggling around in her seat, clearly understanding that she had done something wrong.

 

There was a little huff of air – one that Mycroft hoped wasn’t going to be an indication of what her teenager years were going to be like – and Natalie turned her eyes down away from Mycroft. Mycroft just waited though, she was going to tell him, she wouldn’t like him being quiet and not trying to prompt her along. “Peter was being mean to Dylan so I told him that I was going to tell a teacher because he wasn’t being very nice so he tried to pull my hair and I hit him.” She mumbled eventually. It wasn’t entirely clear, but intelligible and much better than the last attempt. That would explain why there was another two children involved in the issue. “I know that I’m not supposed to hit people but he started it, and he kept calling Dylan names. He kept calling him fat and ugly and he kept poking him and I didn’t think it was fair because Dylan hadn’t done anything, he’s just a bit bigger than everyone else.” Natalie mumbled. “Dad says that people don’t like it when they get called fat and get teased about it. He said that’s what happened to you and that’s why you’re so self concluous…I didn’t want Dylan to be upset all the time.” She said, her own bottom lip wavering a little.

 

Despite the fact that Natalie had a little trouble with her pronunciation of conscious Mycroft was genuinely touched. This young girl had put herself in the way of a bully because she knew that it wasn’t nice to be on the receiving end, because she didn’t want him to be upset or think less of himself. Yes, her father might have had a few words to her about Mycroft’s own issues with his body, and Greg had obviously explained what it was like for Mycroft in school and the trouble it had undoubtedly caused his self-esteem…and Natalie had taken it to heart, and she was trying to stop that from happening to other people, even if she didn’t fully understand what she was doing, if Dylan were to remember this in the future he’d know that there was at least someone who hadn’t thought it was a bad thing, someone who didn’t want to tease him about it, and that would be invaluable. It was just as Mycroft was thinking that the office door opened and a woman that had to be in her early thirties stepped out. Hanging close by her legs and clutching her hand tightly was a chunky little boy that Mycroft assumed was Dylan. There really could be no denying that he was chubby, right down to his little hand that was clutching his mother’s hand so tightly.

 

It was incredibly rare for Mycroft to feel sympathy for someone that he didn’t know. To care so much or associate with a stranger…but seeing the young boy, hearing that he was teased so often for the fact that he was overweight pulled at Mycroft’s heartstrings took him back to a time when he was in school.

 

***

 

_Mycroft didn’t like the walk from the bus stop. It wasn’t a long way, he could see the house…but that didn’t mean he liked it any better. His bag was heavy, his uniform uncomfortable to wear, and his way was blocked by some other boys from his school._

_He knew who they were. He knew that David’s dad was having an affair, that his dad wasn’t good at hiding it and so his mum was angry all the time. Mycroft knew that David was just taking it out on him. Alex didn’t like being shorter than everyone else, he didn’t like that he could figure out the new maths that their teacher was trying to give them. He was taking it out on Mycroft too. Michael though…Michael was nine now, two years older than the rest of them. He wasn’t very nice. He had a nice mum, and a nice dad, and a nice dog. Michael didn’t like Mycroft though, he didn’t like the things he said, the way he spoke or corrected people when they were wrong. But Mycroft didn’t understand what was so bad about it. People were stupid, and unless he corrected them how was that going to change? He didn’t_ always _say what he saw. He hadn’t told anyone about David’s dad, or why Jack was upset…he just told people when it was something they needed to know. Like how the moon wasn’t actually made of cheese, or that there was no such thing as dragons._

_Mummy used to meet him from the bus stop everyday. But now she had Sherlock, and Sherlock wasn’t very well. She had to stay in the hospital with him, he was too small, the doctors had said, they were worried about his breathing. And so Mummy stayed in the hospital, and Dad didn’t get home until fifteen minutes after the bus arrived. Mycroft didn’t take it out on anyone. He kept it to himself. It wasn’t so bad, lots of people had visited, and they’d brought biscuits and cakes and most of the time Mummy and Daddy didn’t want to eat them. So Mycroft did. They were good. They made him feel better._

_But now he needed to walk home on his own again. And the three boys were blocking his path. Mycroft took a few steps forward, deciding to try and walk around them. Maybe this time they’d let him pass. It almost worked, he was passed David, and passed Alex…but then Michael stuck his foot out. Mycroft couldn’t react in time to stop himself from tripping. He landed on the pavement hard, grazing his hands and his knees, a small hole forming in his trousers where it had struck a little piece of gravel. It stung, and Mycroft’s eyes started to water. But he couldn’t cry. He knew that they only made fun of you more when you cried. So he pretended that it didn’t hurt. He closed his eyes until he could make the tears stop, trying to ignore the other three boys laughing as he struggled to his feet. “Look at that, fatcroft’s fallen over!” Michael said, pushing Mycroft back to the floor with a shove. “Can you even get up? Or are you too fat?” he sneered. Mycroft tried to ignore it, ignore the way his hands and knees were burning._

_“Look at how red he is! He looks like a tomato.” Alex almost shrieked with laughter. Mycroft could feel the way his face was burning, but he couldn’t stop it. He climbed to his feet again, moving backwards a few steps to get away from them._

_“I bet he doesn’t even know what a tomato is, all he eats is sweets. Isn’t that right Mycroft?” David added. Mycroft’s breaths were a little harsher, heart racing as he tried to figure out a way to get out of this. He couldn’t outrun them. They were faster than he was. “That’s why he’s so fat.”_

_It was so hard to keep the tears back, his arms moved, crossing over his stomach. Hoping that if he hid it_ _from them they wouldn’t make any more comments. “I know what a tomato is. It’s Solanum lycopersicum.” He said, voice quiet and weak, but it didn’t tremble as he spoke. He wouldn’t let it. “I eat all my vegetables you won’t even eat your broccoli will you, David?” he said, knowing that the other boy didn’t. “Leave me alone.” He said, trying to make his voice louder._

_“Leave you alone? But we’re not done with you, are we?” he asked. The other boys didn’t seem to convinced, Mycroft knew that it was because they’d be in trouble if they didn’t get home soon. “Fatty just said something nasty about you, David, don’t you want to get him back for it?” he goaded. What Mycroft had said hadn’t been at all mean, he was just pointing something out…so why was David stepping towards him?_ _Mycroft tried to move back, but Alex ran behind him and shoved him forwards, it was all Mycroft could do not to fall over again. He tried to struggle his way out of it, but David and Alex grabbed an arm each, holding him tightly enough that it hurt, and struggling made him even more red and out of breath._

_It was Michael that stepped forward, jabbing Mycroft hard in the stomach. The other three laughed. “You look even fatter than last time…of course you eat your vegetables, you eat_ everything _don’t you? No wonder you’re so squishy and fat. Look, your uniform doesn’t even fit does it?” Michael laughed, Mycroft struggled again, but he couldn’t get away from him. His throat ached from holding back the tears. It was obvious to Mycroft though, that this was going to end soon, the other two boys were going to have to go home and Michael wouldn’t do it without them. And so Mycroft decided the best thing to do was put up with it. “I bet once you get fat enough your parents are going to send you away somewhere.” He hissed. Oh. So that was is. Michael’s parents sent him to his grandparents every holiday, and he didn’t like going to his grandparents, that was why this was always worse before holidays._

_The hold on his left arm shifted a little. “I have to go, Michael, my mum’s going to be upset if I’m not home soon.” Alex said, sounding a little worried. They were scared of Michael too. Everyone was. Michael scowled, but then his hand shot forward, hitting Mycroft square in the stomach, hard enough that he doubled over and had to fight the urge not to be sick. But then the hands disappeared from his arms, and there was the sound of footsteps moving away, chimes of laughter as they moved away._

_“See you tomorrow fatcroft.” Michael called, and in Mycroft’s ears it wasn’t just a farewell, it was a promise. He stayed where he was until he couldn’t hear them anymore, until he could stand up straight without it hurting too much…and then he started walking home. Refusing to cry. Not yet._

_When he finally reached the house it was empty, so he unlocked the door with the key his parents had bought especially for him when Sherlock had been born and he let himself in. Shoes going on the shoe rack, hanging his bag and coat up, and closing the door behind him. He moved to the kitchen rinsing water over his hands to get rid of the gravel embedded in it, chocking back a sob as he did. Dad would be home from work soon, he’d be able to tell if he was crying. Mycroft dried his hands, and then moved to the cupboard, taking out the box of biscuits that Aunty Jane had sent, opening it and taking one of the biscuits out, immediately taking a bite. It distracted him, stopped him from thinking about all the things Michael and the others had said. And so he took the box to his room._

_By the time his father got home the box was empty, and Mycroft didn’t feel so much like crying anymore._

_***_

‘That's what happened to you.’ The memory hit Mycroft hard, playing over in his mind within a few short seconds. He had never been one to delete memories, but that wasn’t one that he’d looked over before, he left it untouched along with all of the other bad memories he’s stored in his mind palace. Looking at the short, chubby kid clutching his mother’s hands, round cheeks wet with tears Mycroft felt something. He knew what it was like for that child. He knew how hard it was, how cruel children could be at that age.  But for Dylan, he hadn’t had to go through that on his own, because Natalie had stepped in, where no one had done the same for Mycroft. His heart swelled with pride for the little girl, she was so much like her father, and he couldn’t think of any higher compliment for her than that.

 

Natalie was watching him, he realised when he turned back to look at her. Eyes wide with worry. She was scared that she was going to get told off. Mycroft nodded once, a sign to her that he’d listened. “Alright…Natalie you have to understand that you’re not allowed to hit people, if someone hurts you, tell a teacher, they can make sure that they get in trouble for it.” He told her softly, pausing for a moment before he continued. “But I think that what you did for Dylan was very brave, and very kind, and I think that you did a very good thing in stopping Peter from being mean to him…I’m sure he appreciates it very much.” He said softly. If she never grew older at least she’d remain as kind and loving as she was now, and that was something that even Mycroft could appreciate as being a good thing.

 

Mycroft stood and took his phone from his pocket, punching in Anthea’s number. The phone didn’t ring for more than four seconds before a familiar voice answered, the rumble of the car in the background indicating she was delivering the pendrive. “Sir? Is everything alright?” Anthea asked, she didn’t seem concerned just curious, it hadn’t been long since he left the office.

 

“Yes, everything’s quite alright. I need you to rearrange all of my meetings for this afternoon.” He told her, expecting the silence that came after his instruction. He never usually did that, because it meant that the rest of his week would be that much busier, not to mention that he’d have to apologise for rearranging it at such short notice…but it was for good reason.

 

“Right. Of course sir, I’m on it…you’ll have to give me a good explanation tomorrow though.” Anthea said, teasing tone coming through the phone. He knew that she’d do what was asked immediately.

 

“Perhaps. Thank you, Anthea. I’ll be in touch later to make sure the delivery went well.” He told her before he ended the call, his phone going back into his suit pocket. He smiled down at Natalie and held out his hand to help her down from the seat. “Come along then. We’ll go and talk to the head teacher, and then how about we go and get some ice-cream?”

 

Even just the smile that spread across Natalie’s face was enough to validate moving all of his meeting. The whoop of happiness from the little girl enough to make Mycroft chuckle and the other parents shoot him dirty looks. “Good. Let’s get this over with then, shall we?” he asked, walking towards the office with Natalie clutching his hand, and the confidence that if he had done nothing else in his time, at least he had helped look after Natalie.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So there we have it, another foray into the world of the six year old and the ice-man. I really do hope you enjoyed it! It was a little difficult for me to write, Mycroft's not the only one that doesn't want to remember things. Thank you for reading! And if you have any questions about this series or my other work 'I didn't mean it like that' then my tumblr is always open! http://plump-parachutist.tumblr.com/ or http://greg-and-mycroft-answer.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you!


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